


Ebb and Flow

by Failfaster



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Beach Sex, Clothed Sex, Crying, Cuddles, Denial of Feelings, Dry Orgasm, Enthusiastic Consent, Fingerfucking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Kissing, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Porn with Feelings, Rough Kissing, Sexual Tension, Teasing, dubcon, implicit consent, kinda-sorta-aftercare, mutual masterbation, overstimulation/forced orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 19:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20458007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Failfaster/pseuds/Failfaster
Summary: This strange sexual tension is growing, but neither of them think it wise to acknowledge it.Fjord has never claimed to be very wise. And he's has just about had it with Widogast’s bullshit. The prick is cocky, arrogant, and too smart for his own damn good. He needs to be taken down a peg, and Fjord has spent all day meticulously planning how to do just that.





	Ebb and Flow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GrannyBoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrannyBoo/gifts).

> Opposing Tides still lives on in my heart. This ficlet will make a lot more sense if you've read Grannyboo's Opposing Tide's first
> 
> in regards to the Dubious Consent tag:  
Pirates are still pirates, hate-sex has mistakes, so they don’t discuss it proper, and they cross boundaries they probably shouldn’t, but they defo repeatedly say yes all the way through ‘til the end
> 
> Unbeta’d

There’s a strange-unspoken routine between them, that their schedules be kept tactfully separate and limit the inevitable intersections. However, there’s one beat in the evening that has been frequent enough to be expected and...it’s a bit messy to explain away.

One of them always retires to their own tent before the other, and the illusion of privacy has tempted urges to be indulged in. Fjord shamelessly masterbates during these fake-moments of privacy, and puts minimal effort into justifying why. It’s a healthy, normal, excellent decompression mechanism and he needs to try to release as much stress as he can. On occasion, Fjord can hear Caleb taking similar self care (despite the military man’s best efforts to stay quiet). More than once Fjord has used those noises to help edge himself on over the edge, and hasn’t been shy about his own volume, vaguely wondering if his noise had a similar effect on the Wizard. (He secretly hopes so). This strange sexual tension is growing, but neither of them think it wise to acknowledge it.

But, Fjord has never claimed to be very wise. And Fjord has just about had it with Widogast’s bullshit. The prick is cocky, arrogant, and too smart for his own damn good. He needs to be taken down a peg, and Fjord has spent all day meticulously planning how to do just that.

\--

Fjord squeezes just beneath the head, and Widogast’s legs on either side of him kick out, boots scraping the sand. In response, Fjord feels Caleb’s fingers tighten painfully in the hair on the nape of his neck, pulling away until their kiss is broken and they can look at each other.

“Watch yourself,” Caleb snarls, glaring daggers and trying to look in control, but the facade is ruined by how flushed his face is and the strand of drool still connecting their mouths. Fjord scoffs with a smirk, licking his lips in a way he knows is distracting. Caleb’s eyes dart down to the movement, and Fjord uses that to lean forward and press his wet mouth against Caleb’s beard, trailing open mouthed kisses along Caleb’s jaw and neck. Caleb grunts, breath hissing between his teeth as he picks up his own pace again, jerking the pirate off faster in an attempt to get him as riled up as he feels. He’s already cum once, he won’t be bested a second time.

Fjord on the other hand is slow and patient, swiping his thumb under the blunt head of Caleb’s cock, and pressing carefully against the drooling slit. It’s easy to move his hand steadily, the way slickened by some oil he decided to spare. Caleb is squirming under him, fighting the little noises he makes and for a bit of control as he tries to keep pace. Caleb’s hips strain upward into his hand, chasing the sensation; Fjord tactfully loosens his fist. That gets Caleb back on his ass quick, both hands darting off Fjord to slam into the ground behind himself to keep upright as he falls. “Nngh-ah” and Fjord only makes him wait a moment before rewarding the submissive act by stroking a little faster, tunneling his hand to be a little tighter.

“That’s it,” Fjord praises, tongue tracing the shell of Caleb’s ear. Caleb’s reclined posture makes it easier to crowd into his space, and Fjord takes full advantage of that by leaning far enough forward that even if Caleb was completely coherent he’d have a hard time sitting up, “Good boy,”

Caleb is finding it increasingly hard to think. All his sense are blurring into a haze of pleasure. Fjord’s body heat is adding to his own, pits itchy and shirt sticky to his skin with sweat, Fjord’s weight putting pressure down on him, and it’s becoming overwhelming. He’s entirely off balance, mentally and physically. “Dammit…” He whispers, feeling the anxious fight bleed out of him. It’s a little easier then, to just let Fjord do as he will and let the sensations wash over him like the waves of a tide.

Fjord can feel how close Widogast is already, breath hitching and legs trembling as his fingers curl into the sand and grass in a feeble attempt to find purchase. “How’re you doin’?” Fjord teases, and Caleb growls in response, “Sh-Shut up,” His words are slurred wettly, a pool of drool collecting under his tongue, but he can’t get enough breath back to swallow properly. 

Fjord doesn’t say anything, just chuckles darkly, squeezing Caleb’s cock a bit tighter, his other hand sliding lower to slip curiously under his loosened waist band and grope at Caleb’s ass blindly. Caleb cries out something, and nearly starts thumping his heel at the ground in pleasure. There’s delicious irony in the fact that one of Widogast’s names for him is ‘Dog’ that Fjord is enjoying entirely too much.

Caleb doesn't last much longer. “Fuck-!” his voice cracks, with enough volume to echo a bit as his whole body shakes with the intensity of a second orgasm so soon after the first. This time his cock does spend, shooting little bursts of cum out over himself and Fjord’s hand. Pleasure rushing through his blood stream as his vision goes white around the edges, shame burning hot in the pit of his stomach.

As much as Fjord would love to stroke Caleb through and milk the orgasm for every drop, he has been waiting for just this moment to act. As Widogast’s eyes roll into the back of his head, he moves quickly; hoisting his arms under Widogast’s knees and tugging, causing the man’s arms to slip out from under him and to fall onto his back prone. He’s easy to maneuver like this, no resistance as Fjord moves his body and legs, makes quick work of Caleb’s trousers and small cloth (struggling over Widogast’s boots), and tosses them aside. He pulls Caleb back into his lap, legs spread wide to either side of him. He lets Caleb keep the stupid coat on though, since it’s now laid out under him.

“There we are now, that’s much better.” He says, much more satisfied with where this is going as he runs his hands over Caleb’s thighs.

Caleb shivers, both from the sudden feeling of being cold, and from the tingle the hands on him sparks. As the roaring in his ears subsides, he can tell a few things have changed. He’s on his back, legs spread over Tusktooth’s waist, and he’s entirely exposed from the waist down. The angle is terribly awkward for him, his upper body lower than his legs, and pelvis angled up in a way that made Caleb feel filthily obscene. There’s a part of Caleb’s brain that is unnerved by this, that, while he disassociated from his body, he allowed himself to be taken advantage of so easily. But much more of Caleb is excited by it. Despite being soft and sated, his cock gave a little twitch at the realization.

“You know, you’re beautiful like this,” Fjord whispered, distractedly (It seems a poor time to voice that he finds Caleb beautiful in any context). Widogast’s brow furrows in confusion, caught off guard by the comment; then he suddenly keened when Fjord’s hands part his ass cheeks. Caleb feels like his face is on fire from embarrassment, and he makes an annoyed noise somewhere between a grunt and a growl. “What?” Tusktooth teases with an honest-to-gods giggle, “Do you not like that?”

Caleb’s anger flares, giving him enough energy to snap, “Pirate...I swear, to gods above and below...if you’re going to do something, you better do it now while I still allow i-” A choked off moan cuts off the threat when Fjord presses a his thumb to the rim of Caleb’s hole, effectively interrupting him. There’s no intrusion, just a gentle push that’s a taste of what could happen next as Fjord slowly rubs over, around, “I’m sorry, what was that? Didn’t quite catch that.”

“Do something dammit!” Caleb shouts, careless of volume and tone--Tusktooth pauses out of surprise. Caleb is so desperate for stimulation, it’s robbing every other thought from him, and it’s strangely hard to care. His fingers scramble blindly and find hand holds in the fabric of Fjord’s pants, gripping tightly as he pushes back against Fjord’s finger.

“Alright-Alright-jeez!” Fjord placates, quickly reaching aside to grab at the jar of oil. He only fumbles a moment to hastily get the lid off, setting it carefully aside as he dips his index finger in for a generous coating. He returns his attention to Caleb, gently probing and massaging at the tight ring of muscle until it loosens and relaxes enough to slip a single finger in. Caleb takes in a sharp breath, one hand darting between his legs to clutch at Fjord’s wrist tightly to stop him.

Fjord does stop and looks up at him. Widogast looks wrecked; his clothes all askew and hanging open, red from hairline to chest with a dark sex-blush, damp with sweat, and barely able to catch his breath. His eyes are screwed shut, chin to chest and he’s trembling all over. There’s a warning here, and Fjord hesitates to move forward until he knows he and Caleb are on the same page.  
“Does that hurt?” A pause. Caleb shakes his head no, still panting hard, jaw clenched.  
“Do you want me to stop?” A second longer pause. Fjord tries not to jostle Caleb too much as he leans over a little closer, providing a bit more weight, a bit more body heat, a bit more “privacy”. That seems to help as Caleb takes a few deeper breaths and opens his eyes, looking down at their hands. He keeps his sight trained there as he shakes his head a second time, and slowly pulls Fjord’s wrist forward so that his finger slips in to the second knuckle. Fjord nods once and procedes.

It takes a bit more working in small circles and slow thrusts until Caleb relaxes enough that the ministration is met with little-to-no resistance and Fjord can push his finger in as far as it’ll go. Fjord slowly presses a second finger inside, setting a steady rhythm he can keep for a little while. Caleb is vocal-moaning and whimpering, quiet little ah-ah-ahs each time Fjord pushes into him while his cock fills out and gets hard again. It takes Fjord a few different angles before he finds Caleb’s prostate, but when he does the Archmage thrashes, scrambling for some purchase to hold onto when he cries out like a whore in a brothel. Fjord grins, and purposefully loses that sweet spot just for the sake of stroking and finger-fucking. He takes his time now, enjoying himself a little too much and savoring the sight as Widogast unravels beneath him.

“Ya know?” Fjord says, resting his chin in his propped up free hand and staring down at Caleb with a smug expression, fingers still pistoning. “Someone more cruel wouldn’t be nearly so kind as I’m being. They’d just use you as is, your satisfaction or comfort be damned, seeing how invaluable this oil is in our current...predicament; yet I’m kind enough to spare some for your sake. Ain’t I sweet?”

Caleb’s expression clouds over a bit as Fjord monologues, tuning in to listen again. He manages to get his eyes back on Fjord, focusing long enough to glare and slur, “Ffugh..Fu-ck you.”  
Fjord frowns. He adds a third finger on a sudden good hard thrust to shut Caleb up, and it works, the human whining and eyes literally crossing as they turn skyward.  
“Rude,” Fjord chides, reinvigorated by Widogast’s bratty attitude. He keeps thrusting hard, fingers twisting and turning until he finds the sensitive nerves inside again. Caleb jolts again when he hits it, crying out. Fjord crooks his fingers and devotes all his attention to the task at hand, rubbing insistently until Caleb is blabbering absolute nonsense below him, squirming as if he wants to resist but can find no such will do do so properly.

Then an idea illuminates as soon as Caleb says something resembling the word “cum;” He stills his hand, doesn’t move and doesn’t touch and watches in sheer delight as Caleb is suddenly pushed over the cusp. His mouth hangs open in a silent scream; and now that Fjord is focusing on his face, he can see the mess of drool leaking out the corners of his mouth and the tears spilling over as his eyes roll, falling halfway closed lopsidedly. To Fjord’s enense pride, that orgasm is dry too; Caleb’s balls are still drawn up tight, dick red and swollen, unspent.

Caleb gives a pathetic sob as the wave of stimulation crashes over him again, completely overwhelming. It’s so much, too much, and he can’t find proper footing to be properly aware of it all. What’s more, he doesn’t want to. He feels like he’s been wrung out, muscles relaxing to the point of being useless. His mind is nearly gone, any thought takes more energy than it’s worth, so Caleb contents himself with floating in the strange head space.  
“You like this, don’t you Caleb?” Fjord teases as he leans over him, and Caleb doesn’t see that grin as feral anymore; it’s much too sweet and smug to be an ill-intended thing. Caleb can only nod mutely, mouth still hanging open with heaving breaths, eyes still in the middle-distance somewhere over head. 

“You like it when I make you feel good?” Fjord’s voice is getting quieter as he leans into Caleb’s ear. He doesn’t sit up straight; quite the opposite, he curls over Caleb, laying atop him so his face is buried into the crook of Caleb’s neck, one arm bracing under them while the other is fumbling between both their legs. He thinks he’s been plenty patient and thus his sudden urgency to be inside the Archmage is forgivable. Caleb doesn’t mind and doesn’t seem to notice either until the head of Fjord’s dick is against his entrance, lined up. Caleb stiffened a bit, but Fjord is already moving, pausing only to put both arms down for leverage before pushing in. Fjord groans loudly with how hot and wet Caleb feels, “So good, so good...” He whispers before sliding the rest of himself inside with a hiss. His head was spinning, so good his hips are already rolling, testing the feeling of it. Caleb’s tension relaxes as his body, already open and wanting, accepts the intrusion and the strange feeling turns into a good one. Fjord readjusts his weight so he’s a bit more comfortable and wraps his arms around the back of Caleb’s head, cradling him close as waits for Caleb to relax a bit more, before pulling out and sliding back in.

“Holy fuck-” He barely manages, in awe with how stupidly-turned on he is as he begins to fuck Caleb.

Caleb couldn’t say much even if he wanted to. He hasn’t felt like he’s thinking with his dick since he was a teenager, yet the throb of blood through his groin and the twitching of his cock makes it so all he can think about is how good Fjord feels inside him. Strangely enough, the stimulation is barely registering for him, the onslaught of sensations thus far leaving it hard for the over sensitive nerves to properly ignite again. But Caleb is still painfully hard, body protesting that it’s had enough in the same moment it begs for more to reach a release.

Fjord moves slowly at first, taking his time to build into a relentless pounding, and Caleb unravels. With every thrust, hips flush to ass, Fjord pushes back more and more of the Archmage persona like the waves ebbing at the shoreline, leaving Caleb a trembling, pliant puddle of need under him. He wasn’t in control anymore and he didn’t want to be. There wasn’t anyone to call on him, anyone to command, anyone to worry about appeasing other than Fjord and that was all there was too it. All he had to do was please Fjord, and he could hear him say it, hear how well he was doing, how good a boy he was. The whole world was just the two of them, the feeling of skin on skin, hot slick between their bodies, and how wonderful it felt to let go.

Fjord can feel Caleb shaking under him, trembling in the way he’d been for the past-however-long-this-has-been-going-on and it spurs him on, wanting to wring one more round out of him. He whispers praise, finding a rough rhythm that is so perfect, so good, hips rolling in quick jerking motions. He places a few open mouthed kisses as logic turns to white noise in favor of chasing his pleasure for all it’s worth. But he’s determined to make Caleb cum before he does, so after a moment, his own climax impending, he reaches between their bellies and takes a hold of Caleb’s cock, tugging and stroking a little rougher than necessary.

The hand on him makes Caleb sob, tears falling, spit continues to to collect and spill, this time over his chin as his tongue pushes against his lips, threatening to loll out entirely. The pressure of Fjord’s weight on him was wonderful, his thrusts pushing him down into the ground was exciting in a way he couldn’t articulate, and the hand on his dick was pulling him over the edge of ecstasy surprisingly fast. He is crying in enerest when he does finally cum, properly cum, white heat releasing as all his senses abandon him and everything goes white.

Fjord’s whole body shudders as he finishes with Caleb’s name on his lips, groaning and huffing as pleasure roared through his blood. His hips stutter to a halt as he releases, buried balls deep in Caleb’s ass as he came. There’s a deep, rooted instinct that’s happy about this; happy that Caleb was full to the brim with his seed, that if felt like Caleb had become his, inside and out. Fjord collapsed onto Caleb, tucking his face against Caleb’s collar bone.

He is immensely proud of himself, “Ain’t that better?” He pants, hot wet breath against Caleb’s goosebumpy skin, chest heaving with heavy breath. He sits up, only enough to see Caleb’s face, arms sliding out from under Caleb so Fjord can take his face in his hands. Widogast is beautiful in the throes of his pleasure, all glassy eyed and fucked-out, covered in drool and tears. He is an absolute mess. “Finally outta that head of yours.” No response. Caleb’s eyes start to relax from their pinched, criss-crossed staring contest with the sky, but he’s still crying and shaking like a leaf and hiccuping for air. Fjord’s smile falters. Uh-oh.

“You okay?” Fjord says, a bit anxious by the crying and how non-verbal Caleb has gone.  
It takes a long pause, but Caleb flashes Fjord a watery open-mouthed smirk, and nods, sniffling as more tears fall. “Oh, good.” Fjord sighs with relief, and can’t quite figure out why seeing that smile, small and genuine, has knocked some of the air out of him. In a surprisingly sweet gesture, Fjord kisses the very tip of Caleb’s nose. But as he moves to pull away, a sudden urge over takes him that one kiss isn’t enough, so he kisses the corner where cheek meets nose on the left side of Caleb’s face. Then the right. Then across his cheeks. Three becomes four becomes five quick kisses and when he plants his lips against Caleb’s forehead he pauses, comfortable to let his mouth rest there. He didn’t realize he was smiling until now, lips smooshed against Caleb’s brow. He sighs, catching his breath and content to pause with this sudden swell of affection.

He lays over Caleb for a moment, close body heat, sheltering his naked form from the chill that’s beginning to settle around them after the heat of their moment. But only a moment, because he knows if he waits much longer, they’ll start shivering from the cold and it’s already uncomfortable as it is covered in patches of dirt, grass, bits of sand, sweat, and cum. He slides up on his hand and knees, pulling out, careful to keep Caleb laid out on that coat.  
“I’m not going far, just stay put a moment.”  
And moment is all it takes for Fjord to fetch a blanket. He doesn’t bother tucking Caleb back into his clothes, nor does he bother with a wipe down. Too tired, too cold. He opens the blanket wide, and finds himself wrestling with Caleb’s limp body again, moving boneless arms and legs where he wants them without help as he wraps Caleb up, swaddled as snug as he can get him, only his head poking out. “There we go, c’mon.” He huffs, scooping Caleb up bridal style. Caleb only gives a quiet “Oof…” as he’s picked up, and stranger still, he leans his head against Fjord as he’s carried, eyes blinking slow n’ sleepily.

Fjord carries Caleb into his tent, awkwardly maneuvering them both. He lays Caleb down on his sleeping matt first and then works to put as many blankets under himself and around them both as he crawls under the covers beside him. They have to get all up close and personal, since the sleeping matt was only meant for one, but after what they just did, Fjord doesn’t mind in the slightest as he snuggles into Caleb’s side.

He wraps an arm around Caleb, the other folded to pillow under his head, alternating between running his claws through the fiery red hair and rubbing circles/up and down Caleb’s back. He’s enjoying the chance to blatantly stare now, Caleb’s unfocused eyes closing peacefully as he begins to drift off. He looks so much younger with how relaxed and still he is, and a part of Fjord wishes he could keep Caleb like this. Fjord wiggles once or twice to get closer until it is undeniably cuddling, Caleb tucked under his chin, legs bent so they’re as flush as possible under their blankets, Caleb’s blanket between them. And that weird tide of feelings is high again, driving Fjord to lean forward and place a lingering revenant kiss to Caleb’s hairline. Caleb kinda grunts/kinda sighs, apparently not as asleep as Fjord thought. He mutters a quiet “Sorry,” but doesn’t pull away. It’s too comfortable, this care and soft affection in the aftermath of so much intense emotion and sensation, and he’s too tired to question why or where this feeling is coming from; Caleb is allowing it, so he’s going to just enjoy the intimacy while it’s happening.

Caleb falls asleep pretty quickly once they’ve settled, and Fjord only gets a minute or two of privacy in that moment before restful sleeps falls over him as well. 

It worked. Maybe a little too well...


End file.
